


You Should See Why

by MacksDramaticShenanigans



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Confident Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Practice Kissing, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Smart Richie Tozier, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 21:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21362686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacksDramaticShenanigans/pseuds/MacksDramaticShenanigans
Summary: He goes back to the math worksheet still in his lap, choosing to completely ignore Eddie now, rather than give him the satisfaction of even addressing him. That works for all of five seconds before Eddie shoves the worksheet out of Richie’s hold and tackles him to the ground, forcing him to give Eddie his attention.Richie’s so caught off guard by it that he can barely even start to wrestle back before Eddie has him pinned to the floor. He hovers over Richie, a triumphant, self-satisfied little grin spread across his face.All Richie can do is lie there, breathless, beneath Eddie.“Come on, Rich, just fucking spit it out!” Eddie urges.And maybe it’s because Eddie’s face is close enough that Richie can count each individual freckle dotting his nose. Or maybe it’s because the weight of Eddie on top of him feels so nice, his skin so warm where it touches Richie’s. Or maybe it’s because Richie’s so overwhelmed and his brain has turned to scramble right there in his skull. But before he can stop himself, the truth falls from his lips on its own volition.“I thought you were going to ask me to teach you to kiss!”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 20
Kudos: 375





	You Should See Why

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii friends!! I’m back with another reddie fic woop!
> 
> This one’s just a short lil pile of fluff! I was scrolling through the reddie tag on tumblr, as one does, and I came across [this](https://wannabe-cute.tumblr.com/post/188754706423/eddie-hey-can-i-ask-you-a-favourbut-please) post and I instantly got inspired for this fic. I ended up writing like a very bare bones version of this in the tags when I reblogged the post and then decided I wanted to turn it into an actual legit fic, and thus, this fic was created!!
> 
> It took me a little longer than expected to finish it, but it’s finally done and I’m super pumped to share it with you all! Having this finished tonight though is definitely adding to my preexisting buzz (which happens to stem from the fact that I'm going to be meeting james ransone this weekend at a con and im skgjlgkd AHH) I really hope everyone likes this fic! :)
> 
> That being said, if it wasn’t for the enthusiastic appreciation of what I wrote in the tags from [wannabe-cute](https://wannabe-cute.tumblr.com/) this probably wouldn’t have happened, so thank you my dear, this one’s for you! <3
> 
> This is unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own, blah blah. Haha.
> 
> The title comes from [I Melt With You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LuN6gs0AJls) bt Modern English. I thought the song had a nice feel that fit the tone of the fic, so I rolled with it lol.
> 
> Now, without further ado, I hope you all enjoy this one!!

“Hey, can I ask you a favor?” Eddie asks, out of the blue.

Richie’s about to make a quip about how Eddie’s the one that demanded silence and yet here he is, the one breaking it. But when he looks up from his history assignment and over to Eddie, the other boy looks nervous.

Eddie fiddles with his pencil, steadfastly staring down at the notebook in his lap before finally tearing his eyes away to glance over at Richie. Nerves are written all over his face.

Richie’s heart jumps in his chest as he replays Eddie’s words in his head. A favor? What kind of favor? Whatever it is, it’s going to be a big one. He can tell. 

Richie’s thoughts fly straight to the conversation they’d had earlier when they were still at the clubhouse with the rest of the Losers. They’d been discussing  _ kissing _ , for whatever reason. Well, no, not whatever reason. Mike had gotten his first kiss and he’d been regaling the story to them all. That had eventually led to the rest of them sharing their very own first kiss stories, which  _ then  _ branched into a discussion on the various kissing techniques and which ones had the best merit. Richie can’t help but think, wonder,  _ hope _ Eddie’s favor might have something to do with that.

“... Please don’t tell my mom, though, okay? She’d… she’d freak,” Eddie adds, setting his pencil down so he can instead wring his fingers together.

“Uh, what’s up, Eds?” Richie asks. His mind races, filling in the hundreds of different ways Eddie could answer him. He folds his hand around the cover of his textbook and crosses his first two fingers where they hide beneath the page.  _ Kiss practice, kiss practice, kiss practice, kiss practice _ , his brain chants at him. Richie has to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from blurting anything out prematurely.

Eddie chews on his own lower lip for a second, before letting it slowly pop back out from between his teeth, all glossy and red.

Richie swallows down a whine.

Then Eddie opens that mouth to finally ask his favor. “Can you teach me how to—”

“Absolutely! Of course I can, Eds. Yes!” Richie cries out before he can stop himself.

“—do the math homework… Oh, wow, thanks, Rich,” Eddie says, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “That was enthusiastic,” he laughs. He looks relieved. “I was kind of worried you were going to play it off like you’re too cool to help me with  _ math homework _ even though we both know that’s bullshit. You’re the biggest secret nerd there is,” he teases, elbowing Richie lightly in the ribs. 

Richie blinks as Eddie’s words catch up with him. Oh. Math homework. Right. Yeah, okay. It’s not exactly kissing practice, but hey, Richie  _ is _ good with numbers. He can definitely help Eddie with that. “Uh. Yeah, yeah, Kaspbrak, no need to go around telling the whole world,” he says, trying to shake off his disappointment.

“We’re in your bedroom, Rich, there’s no one here to tell,” Eddie replies. Then his lips curve up mischievously and he twists around a little to reach for something at the foot of Richie’s bed. “Unless you’re afraid of Mr. Snuggles finding out,” he teases, waving the well-worn stuffed rabbit in front of Richie’s face. It had been Richie’s favorite stuffed animal since he was a little child, always cuddling it to sleep. Even as he grew older, he hadn’t wanted to part with it, instead letting it hang out amongst the pillows and watch over him.

Richie’s cheeks warm, and he lunges over to snatch the rabbit from Eddie’s hands. “Hey, you leave Mr. Snuggles out of this!” He cries dramatically. He clutches the rabbit to his chest and then sets it in his lap before smoothing out one of its ears. “Did the big bad Spaghetti Man hurt you?” He questions the stuffed toy, earning a laugh from Eddie. Richie bites back his smile.

He turns to Eddie then and points an accusatory finger at him. “Mr. Snuggles is a dignified rabbit. He doesn’t need you feeding him outrageous lies like that,” he chastises.

Eddie’s grin grows and he shakes his head at Richie. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, but it’s not in his usual exasperated tone. It’s that softer, almost fond one that Eddie sometimes gets with him. 

It makes Richie’s stomach flop.

He tosses the rabbit back onto his bed and pushes his history book aside. “Alright, Spaghetti Man,” Richie starts, making his voice go all deep and smooth like a big league announcer would sound. “Let’s see these scary numbers. Hand ‘em over.” He thrusts his hand, palm up, towards Eddie and wiggles his fingers expectantly as he waits for Eddie to pass over his homework.

When he finally does, Richie adjusts his glasses with his free hand and then starts to scan over the equations strewn across the page.

And, fuck.

Thankfully Richie manages to bite back the curse before it tumbles out of his mouth. He schools his face into a more neutral expression as well, but he lets the internal sirens whoop and the dread start to fill him.

God damn fucking t-tests!  _ Of course _ Eddie would ask for help on the one single topic that Richie himself had been having trouble with. No matter how hard he tries he always mixes up the null hypothesis and the alternative hypothesis, and even though the steps seem fairly simple on paper, in practice he just can’t get them right.

But fuck if he’s going to let Eddie know he’s struggling. Richie already agreed to help him, and there’s no way he’s going to back out of that now. He won’t admit defeat. There’s no time like the present to learn to better understand a mathematical concept, right? How hard could it be?

“Are you gonna eyefuck my homework all day or are you gonna teach me how to do it?” Eddie asks, nudging Richie in the arm.

It’s enough to jerk him out of his thoughts and back to the present, and Richie gives himself a little shake before turning to Eddie. “I save all the eyefucking for you mom, Eds,” Richie retorts with a lecherous grin. “When we see each other across a crowded room and—”

Eddie punches him in the arm. “Beep beep, Richie,” he says, scowling at him. “Shut up about my mother and help me with this stupid math shit, otherwise I’ll just go call Stan.” 

“Okay, okay, no need to get violent with me! Is that any way to treat the man who so graciously offered to tutor you?” Richie asks. He leans his shoulder into Eddie’s and gives him a pointed look.

“Oh, fuck off, I asked you for help, you didn’t offer shit!” Eddie snaps back, rolling his eyes.

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Richie says, waving a hand through the air. “Now shut your pie-hole and listen up, Eddie Spaghetti, Professor Tozier is talking.” 

Eddie makes a face like he just sucked on a lemon. “Don’t call yourself that,” he says. 

“What? Professor Tozier? You don’t like it?” Richie asks. He leans in even closer. “You don’t think it’s…  _ sexy _ ?” he teases, waggling his eyebrows.

Eddie’s frown deepens. “Disgusting, no. Teachers are  _ not  _ sexy, Richie, what the fuck. That’s… that’s so… student-teacher relationships are so inappropriate. Teachers are supposed to be authority figures. That’s, like, illegal in so many different ways, and it probably violates so many professional codes, not to mention their  _ contracts _ . And that’s just gross. They’re, like, forty years old, and—”

“If your mom was a teacher I’d definitely fu—”

“You know what, I’m gonna go call Stan,” Eddie says, reaching for his homework sheet as he starts to stand up.

Richie jerks the paper away from Eddie’s hands and stretches his arm out as far as it can go so Eddie can’t steal it away. “No, no, no, wait. Okay. I’m helping! I am!” Richie makes a show of straightening the worksheet in front of himself again and starts to read through the first question.

He starts to mumble under his breath, trying to make sense of what’s being asked and how he would even begin to solve the problem. Lifting his pencil, Richie brings it to the paper and starts scribbling out equation after equation, trying to plug different numbers into where he thinks they belong, only to furiously erase them away when they don’t work.

He does that about five times, getting more and more frustrated that he’s still not getting it, before Eddie butts in.

“What the fuck, dispshit, I thought you said you could help me,” Eddie says, looking over at Richie with a puzzled expression.

Richie lets out a frustrated huff and gives up trying to solve the current problem he’s been going through for the past five minutes now. He glances over at Eddie, then averts his eyes. “I didn’t think you were going to ask for  _ math homework _ help,” he mumbles quietly to himself.

But Eddie’s got, like, super hearing or something, so, of course, he catches it. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, and Richie doesn’t have to look up to know that his face has scrunched up in that adorable way it does when he’s trying to work something out. “What did you think I was going to ask, then?”

Richie shakes his head. “Nothing,” he replies, hoping that Eddie will just drop it.

He doesn’t. 

“No, hey, what the fuck. You can’t just say that and then not tell me. What did you mean?” He demands. “Richie, come on, tell me what you thought I was going to ask.”

Again, Richie refuses. “It’s not important, don’t worry about it,” he tries. 

Eddie isn’t having it, though. And he’s a stubborn motherfucker when he wants to be, so Richie knows he’s not going to stop bugging him about it until he gives in and spills.

But Richie’s stubborn, too. It’s really just a battle of wills now.

The arguing continues on in a similar fashion, Eddie demanding Richie answer and Richie flat out refusing. At one point Eddie resorts to pushing into Richie’s space and sticking his face real close to Richie’s before repeating the question over and over and over, running his motormouth. That’s always been his particular brand of obnoxious, but Richie’s had so much practice with it that it doesn’t phase him anymore.

He goes back to the math worksheet still in his lap, choosing to completely ignore Eddie now, rather than give him the satisfaction of even addressing him. That works for all of five seconds before Eddie shoves the worksheet out of Richie’s hold and tackles him to the ground, forcing him to give Eddie his attention.

Richie’s so caught off guard by it that he can barely even start to wrestle back before Eddie has him pinned to the floor. He hovers over Richie, a triumphant, self-satisfied little grin spread across his face. 

All Richie can do is lie there, breathless, beneath Eddie. 

“Come on, Rich, just fucking spit it out!” Eddie urges.

And maybe it’s because Eddie’s face is close enough that Richie can count each individual freckle dotting his nose. Or maybe it’s because the weight of Eddie on top of him feels so nice, his skin so warm where it touches Richie’s. Or maybe it’s because Richie’s so overwhelmed and his brain has turned to scramble right there in his skull. But before he can stop himself, the truth falls from his lips on its own volition.

“I thought you were going to ask me to teach you to kiss!”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up the second the sentence is out, but he doesn’t move. 

Richie’s heart sticks in his throat. His breathing comes to a screeching halt, caught in his lungs. He blinks up at Eddie— it’s the only thing he can do— and waits. Waits for an outburst. Waits for him to scramble back as quick as he can. Waits for him to run right out the door and not look back once.

But Eddie doesn’t do any of that. He doesn’t start yelling. He doesn’t extract himself from Richie. He doesn’t run. Instead, a mischievous sort of smile quirks at his lips, head tilting impishly to the side as he peers down at Richie with his big brown eyes.

Richie barely has a second to wonder what any of that means before Eddie ducks down and plants one on him.

It absolutely shocks the hell out of Richie, so much so that he doesn’t even get a chance to properly react to it before Eddie pulls back and rights himself. He steadies himself with one hand on Richie’s chest, then leaves it there. Richie can feel the warmth from it radiating through his shirt.

Eddie’s a little pink in the cheeks, and there’s a nervous, almost shy curve to his mouth. But the longer Richie lies there, totally speechless for once in his life, it starts to grow until it’s a full blown grin. Eddie looks positively gleeful and a little bit smug, too. “I think  _ you  _ might be the one that needs  _ me _ to teach you how to kiss,” he says, sounding way too pleased with himself.

This time Richie’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline, and his stomach somersaults in the best kind of way. “Fuck you, I wasn’t expecting that!” He cries when he finally finds his voice again.

Eddie laughs, bright and melodic, and lets go of one of Richie’s wrists so he can bring his palm to cup Richie’s cheek. “It’s okay, Rich. Nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll teach you how to kiss,” he says. And then he leans down once more and kisses Richie.

This time, Richie’s ready for it. This time, Richie tilts his chin up and kisses back. He even slides the hand that isn’t pinned down anymore around the back of Eddie’s neck, cupping it gently.

As far as kisses go, it’s a chaste one. Just two pairs of lips pressing against each other, sliding messily together as they find their bearings and try to get the hang of it. It’s far from perfect— neither of them have much experience with kissing in the first place— but god, it’s good. It’s so good. Richie doesn’t ever want it to stop.

Kissing Eddie is better than breathing.

But eventually the scales tip and the need for air does indeed surpass the desire to keep kissing, and the two split apart, just enough that they can catch their breath.

Eddie’s grinning again, his eyes sparkling as he meets Richie’s eyes. “You’re a pretty good student, I’m already seeing some improvement,” he comments.

Richie smirks wickedly up at Eddie. “I thought you weren’t into the student-teacher thing,” he points out.

Eddie scowls at him. “Fuck you, I’m not,” he bites back.

Richie laughs. “Could’ve fooled me, Professor K.” He sends an exaggerated wink Eddie’s way. “But if I’m already improving, I guess that means you gotta keep up the lessons, what do you say?”

Eddie’s already leaning back down to reconnect their lips. “I guess I do,” he agrees.

Richie tips his chin back up to meet Eddie’s lips halfway, and the two melt together, Eddie’s dumb math homework long forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think with a kudos and a comment! 
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/brooklynbabybucky) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/BrklynBabyBucky)! :)


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